


The Victor

by AParisianShakespearean



Series: Dragon Age One Shots [24]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition, Mass Effect Trilogy
Genre: Cullen's mantle gets another use, Cullenlingus, F/M, Fluff, Sharing Clothes, Smut, sensual smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-03
Updated: 2018-11-03
Packaged: 2019-08-17 02:30:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,335
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16507661
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AParisianShakespearean/pseuds/AParisianShakespearean
Summary: When Shepard comes home, she has a little surprise for Cullen.





	The Victor

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Katieee](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Katieee/gifts).



> this is a thank you piece for @katie2e! (@agentkatie on tumblr.) Once again thanks so much, it was fun piece to write! :)

He missed her when she was gone. It went without saying, especially considering how Rylen said he acted like a “lost and lonely puppy” the whole time. Maker, he missed even the things that weren’t even his favorite parts about her, like her stubbornness and her brashness.

He wouldn’t ever admit that to her, but it was true.

When she came home he saw no reason to tell her he missed her, because he knew when they reunited it was written all over his face. He told her anyway.

“I missed you too Cullen,” she said, and he remembered one of the things he missed the most was her smile.

He matched her smile, though his was certainly not as dazzling, and more conspiratorial. “By the way,” he began, “I know it was you.”

Nodding, quite enthusiastically, she didn’t even try to deny the fact that yes, she was the culprit that stole his mantle. It was why when he did the morning drills he had to endure the snickering and raised eyebrows from his troops. It was worth it though, he thought. If he couldn’t be with her, maybe it would make her safe. Silly thought, he knew, not only because it was, but because she was more than capable of taking care of herself.

However, the two of them were carrying on the long trend of couples taking each other’s clothes. Informing him that fact while standing on her tiptoes, she kissed him briefly before promising him she had plans for later. By the time she was gone he had forgotten to ask for his mantle back, though he thought he could stand one more day without it. He hoped.

But the promise of later was on his mind as he went about the day with reports and drills, and that was far more enticing to think of than his fallen status without his signature article of clothing. He should have known what the later would entail when he saw Shepard earlier. That cheeky grin was laced with the tantalizing propositions of a night together, hidden away. The fact of the matter however, was he stared at Shepard with his mouth hanging open for a good solid minute when he climbed up his ladder and found her in his room after the day was done.

There was no need for her to ask if he liked what he saw, it was written over his face, made even more obvious when his clothes fell to the floor and he climbed next to her and rained her in kisses.

“You like it,” she said cheekily between kisses, leading him to his back. “I had a feeling you would.”

“You still stole it,” he stubbornly pointed out.

She corrected him by insisting she “borrowed it,” also insisting the mantle looked better on her anyway. She wore it differently than he did, instead of pulling it up it hung loosely at her shoulders. Are you trying to seem larger than life? One of his men asked once when he inquired the reason why Cullen even wore the mantle. Shepard didn’t help with seeming larger than life. It suited her, the burgundy and red in the coat matching well with her hair, long braid over her shoulder, but it suited her none the less. Cullen’s eyes drifted over her, admiring how the coat barely covered the various dips and angles of her body. All it would take would be an inch, and—

“Shepard! _Ahh_.”

“Hmm. Cullen,” Shepard cooed, continuing to move her hips. It was subtler the second time, but it drew a moan from him just the same. He was too preoccupied with the way his mantle, something that was so distinctly his hugged her body, that even though he was naked and she was almost naked except for the mantle, he was surprised, but not unpleased when she began to move. He wasn’t inside her but he didn’t need to be—not yet anyway—to feel satisfied. Her folds encased him and he moaned as she alternated between gliding up and down and tilting her hips.

“Shepard—”

“Tell me you like it.”

He smirked. “You know that I do.”

“I want you to say it,” she insisted.

“You are impossible.”

Perhaps it was a bit immature, but he didn’t care as she put her hands on her hips. “You are unbearable,” she offered back.

“Stubborn.”

She took his wrists in her hands, pinning them over his head. In that breath away from a kiss he tried to capture her lips. He surrendered, but he wasn’t going to satisfy her by completely giving up. And, he wanted his kiss.

She gave, her hands sliding down his arms as his wrapped around her. “Cullen,” she breathed between kisses, feeling his smile between. “I know you like it.”

“Then why must you ask if it’s so obvious?”

“Because I want to hear you say it, and—Cullen!”

Rolling her over so he was in control again, beneath him she erupted in titters, lightly smacking his face as he kept her pinned snugly underneath his weight. “Rude!” she mocked.

“I saw an opportunity. I took it.”

Wipe that smirk right off your face, she would have said had Cullen not began his ministrations. Instead her words dissolved into heady moans, Cullen beginning his slow descent down her body, savoring every sound she made. He kissed every strap of skin the mantle did not cover, but he did not remove it or peel it away. Shepard would know she won, but sometimes he didn’t mind letting her win. Only sometimes.

Yet deciding with one thing he would be the victor, he spread his hands underneath her, beckoning her to tilt her hips up. He teased before he gave, leading her to knot her fingers through his hair and tug, and it was only after an incessant pull that his tongue glided across her slit. He tasted her and he spread her gently with his finger, thighs moving and further asking him for more. He pumped a finger in and out as he laved at her clit and she came hard and she came fast, crying out his name.

He didn’t say Shepard, nor did he call her any one of the nicknames or terms of endearment he considered referring to her as when she was away, but rather he called her Mollie in that moment of tenderness when she grabbed his hands and he slipped inside her. They made love like that for a while, their hands and their bodies connecting in a togetherness that felt more sacred than primal, more loving than the hard and fast motions and movements made it seem like it should be. Maker, she was exquisite and tight around him, and he was so lost in the reverie that when she became the victor again, bringing him to his back and kissing him before sliding down again, he cared not. She was flushed and perfect, the mantle sliding off her shoulders. She was blanketing in something distinctly his, and as he contemplated it, his, he parted the lining of the mantle and began to rub at her clit.

They came a beat apart, first her and then him. It was a white hot sea, a melting, a pleasure that was like a dream but better than any dream he could ever have. Still melting and boneless, yet happy and perfect, she sighed deeply, though she did not leave him, kissing his sweaty brow before resting her cheek on his chest.

“Ass,” she said.

“Stubborn.”

“Beautiful.”

“Mollie.”

Underneath her stubbornness, she was soft. Soft like the way she caressed his cheek, and the way she looked at him. Underneath Shepard she was Mollie. That was his favorite part of her, the part he would always miss the most.

“Never stop calling me that,” she said, kissing him.

He had a few more things to call her later that night, when the mantle finally fell to the floor.


End file.
